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“So, have you eaten dinner yet?”
“Ice cream for dinner is a little unorthodox,” Carly said as she followed him down the line. Joe bagged up the ice cream, and if Jackson didn’t know any better, he’d swear the guy’s smile seemed a little bigger than usual.
“Hey, don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.” Jackson paid for the groceries and said goodnight to Joe, guiding the cart away from the line so Carly could make her way through behind him.
“Jackson, I’m a chef. I’ve had just about everything you can think of for dinner, including ice cream. It goes with the whole food-experience territory.”
“If eating ice cream for dinner is part of your job description, I might be up for a career change,” Jackson said, stopping to pop the tailgate on his truck.
Carly lifted a brow. “Don’t be too quick to sign on. Not everything tastes as good as ice cream.”
Oh, come on. This was food they were talking about here. “Like?”
“Let’s just say I’m not exactly a big fan of tripe. Or ostrich. But trying everything, even the things you don’t necessarily like, is part of the deal.”
Jackson stopped, mid-swing with the last bag of ice. “First of all, I’m not quite sure what tripe is, but the sound of it kind of scares me. Secondly, are you talking ostrich, like huge bird, doesn’t fly, ostrich? Is that even legal?”
Carly laughed, her whole face softening with the gesture. “Yeah, unfortunately. I’m told it’s an acquired taste.” She paused, glancing at his truck. “So, I’ll just follow you, then?” Carly nodded at the only other car in the parking lot, a Honda Civic Jackson assumed was hers.
“You’re probably better off riding with me and I can bring you back here later. It’s a little crowded where we’re headed, and parking is definitely an issue.”
He thought of the grassy off-roading he’d had to do in order to get here in the first place. It would be tough going for Carly’s Honda to make it over all of that, especially since there were still people pulling up when Jackson had left. He’d have to maneuver around a bunch of cars just to get within half a mile of the house again.
“I’ve got to admit, you’ve piqued my curiosity.” She stood unmoving by the back of his truck, and pinned him with a calculating look. “Where is it exactly that we’re headed?”
“Isn’t part of the food experience anticipating the unexpected?” Jackson slammed the tailgate, one corner of his mouth ticking up into a smile that was quickly becoming involuntary when Carly was around. Plus, teasing her was better than admitting out loud that he’d just invited her to a celebration of impending wedded bliss.
But as much as he enjoyed messing with her, he still didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable or, worse yet, unsafe. “If you’d rather follow me, that’s totally okay. We can figure something out once we get there. This place isn’t far at all.”
“Wow. You really weren’t kidding about that maximum intrigue thing,” she murmured, tipping her head. “You’re not going to give me any hints?”
“I just did,” Jackson said. “It’s less than ten minutes from here. Absolutely local. But that’s all I’m willing to divulge for now.”
Finally, Carly nodded. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll just have to trust you. But you should probably know that I have three older brothers who would happily avenge me for so much as a scratch.”
“Something tells me you’d be just fine on your own, but you don’t have to worry.” He stopped to look her in the eyes, blanking the grin from his face so she’d know he was serious. “I would never let you get hurt.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Okay. Good to know.”
A few minutes later, she was perched next to him in the passenger seat of the truck andThe Pennsylvania Building Codehad been summarily pushed aside. Golden sunlight shafted through the leaves, sending sparkly flickers through the truck as they moved over the main road.
“Do you mind if I open the windows instead of putting on the air conditioning?”
On an evening like this, it seemed almost criminal to breathe in artificially cooled air rather than the sweet smell of summer. Some women were kind of picky about rolling the windows down, though, as if the possibility they might sweat a little or get their hair mussed up was public enemy number one.
“Not at all.” Carly’s expression became wistful, and she glanced out the window at the trees that had grown so tall, they met the trees on the other side to form an archway over the road. Jackson lowered both windows and was instantly rewarded with the earthy scent of the leaves overhead.
“Okay, so the suspense is killing me. What’s tripe?”
A tiny smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Absolutely.” He nodded. How bad could it be?
“It’s the stomach lining of a cow.”
That bad. Jackson could count on one hand the number of times he’d lost his appetite, but this definitely made the list. “Sorry I asked.”
Carly shrugged as if tripe was as common as table salt. “To be honest, if you knew what went into some processed meats, you’d probably feel the same way about hot dogs.” The breeze coming through the window loosened a strand of hair from her braid, and it danced around her face, framing her big, brown eyes. He resisted the urge to tuck it behind her ear, arching a brow at her instead.
